A Promise of Forever
by BookLovinWorm
Summary: Dark forces are awakening, friends and enemies mix, love sprouts, regrets are made, sides are chosen, and deaths will surely follow. What will become of our hero and heroine in a desperate race against the King?Chapter 12 officially replaced author's note
1. A Lost Soul

***I do not own the Inheritance Cycle…Also, flying pigs.***

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****A Lost Soul**

The pain, it was indescribable, throbbing, aching. None of these could describe what was happening to her. A thousand needles stabbed at her, pinning her to the ground where she lie, unable to cry out in pain. Tears ran down her flawless face, while spasms racked her body. Red spots began to appear in her vision, voices were melting into nothingness. A familiar voice was desperately calling out her name, only to be heard as a whisper in her mind.

She faintly registered that she was being carried, the gentleness the way the person carried her was lulling, making her eyes heavy with exhaustion. Her heartbeat, so faint, weak and broken, could only hold on for so much longer. Yet this person tried so hard to heal her grievous wounds with what little strength he had. Darkness was slowly enclosing upon her in a gentle embrace, she tried to fight but her body told her to let go, to give in. The Void was waiting for her, her beloved was waiting for her, yet she knew she had to fight. Would she really give up now, just when the Varden were gaining the upper hand in this gruesome war?

All her life she had worked for this cause, and now…She was going to die by the hand of a seemingly typical warrior. No she had to fight! She tried to open her eyes, yet even that little movement has taken so much energy. She just wanted to fall into the black abyss of dreams and fairy tales. Back into the warmth of the bed she was on. But she had to open her eyes, if only to take a look around. She saw a blurry figure sitting on a chair, light snores emitting from it. Suddenly, he looked around with wild eyes, checking if the person next to him was alright. He was surprised to see her awake, and scrambled to her side at once. She looked straight into his eyes seeing that concern glowed in his eyes and worry etched in his face.

"Why…?" Came a weak and haggard voice.

"Shhh…" the man gently cooed. "Don't talk. Your wounds haven't healed yet. It would be best not to move."

_But you could have killed yourself- She_ was cut off as she lightly brushed his mind.

_That doesn't matter! If I had lost you, I don't know what I'd do. You could have died out there, Arya! _

_I shall sacrifice myself if that's what it takes to help our cause. _Her eyes were chips of emerald ice as they glinted coldly. _ And it would do you well to remember that. Your plan was foolhardy and dangerous. _

_Yet here I stand, healthy as an ox. _The man's voice strained with unspoken words of anger.

_That may be, but if you died, where would that leave me-Alagaesia? _Arya said hurriedly.

He raised a slanted eyebrow. _Well, utter chaos would erupt and people would be ridden with grief because their only hope died saving an otherwise normal elf with what little strength he had. _Sarcasm dripped from his every word, though behind them, more could be heard if one listened hard enough.

_Please, Eragon, listen to me. I don't –_Here she sighed – _I don't want to lose my closest friend. The war has already taken all who I care about, and I am not about to lose you. _

Eragon's eyes softened._ Arya_, _I didn't know that you valued me so much. Please, forgive me for my ignorance. _

_All is already forgiven…_She whispered in his mind, slowly closing her eyes, lost to the pitch black night of unconsciousness.

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***Note: All chapters until chapter eleven have been edited. **

**Keep on reading.***


	2. Endless Slumber

***I do not own the Inheritance Cycle…Also, kittens.* **

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Endless Slumber**

_Clouds thundered above as lightning struck mercilessly, illuminating a lithe figure atop a barren hill. It watched with calculating eyes as two silhouettes battled, each fighting for a different cause. The clashing of mind and body were taking a toll on each opponent. Weary, tiring, and stiff from the constant hammering of the rain, a sudden urge to be done with the battle raced through one of the foes as she struck the opposer with one swift strike to the gut, the point of her sword sticking out of his lower back. The figure dropped to his knees in obvious pain as she pulled out her blade agonizingly slow to make her rival feel pain – to suffer the wrath of her power. He fell to the ground, eyes rolled up into his head, slowly dying an unknown death, for his body had gone numb with pain before he even reached the ground. She looked on, green eyes glinting as she let out a malevolent cackle._

Arya's eyes shot open while her hand clutched her heart. Her breathing had rapidly accelerated to an unhealthy pace.

What had happened? It was as if she was possessed. Never would she kill her closest friend. The one she could enjoy time with. Who had saw she openly cried in front of. Who held her when Oromis' death shocked her. Who was next? Faolin? Oromis? Her own mother? She was left with a jumble of questions floating around in her head. Before she could think anymore, another nightmare struck her with such suddenness, it took the wind out of her lungs as she was plunged into her fears.

She could not wake from her slumber, she had tried, but to no avail. She was stuck in her mind with her worst fears, and could not hide behind a barrier. Oh no, she had no shield, no corner, nightmares were her only companions. Day after day scenes replayed over and over of her loved ones being killed with her own hand. Each worst than the last. There was poison on the sword that impaled her; she bleakly grasped this new information. It had already gone into her system, affecting her brain, making it hallucinate.

She knew not how long these apparitions of horror went on, only that she was waiting for the next one where she beheaded, slashed or cleaved her opponent, watching with wicked glee as they died. She could only hope that someone knew what the poison was, and cure her. It was already taking a toll on her mind and body, making them weak, and left without any energy. Arya could only keep her sanity for so much longer. Eventually as the dreams kept coming, her primal instincts came out; fear was the only emotion she had now.

As the time ticked by, Arya's body slowly lost weight until she was only skin and bones. Her muscles, once so great, were useless and stringy. Her face, once so full and carved to perfection, was sunken in. And her cheekbones. They stuck out like sharpened blades, ready to hurt someone, lest they touch her.

This did matter to Eragon, for he never left her side, always murmuring words of comfort, stroking her lusterless hair, trying to bring her back to reality. Once she moaned, he tried shaking her, but she just wouldn't wake. He fed her broth to keep her nourished, called for Angela to see if she could do anything, but it was all in vain. Months passed without any progress as battles raged outside. It would break Eragon's heart to be parted from her when duty called.

He would kill the person responsible for her illness. Punish without impunity, torment them in the worst possible way. Oh, this would be much worse than death itself. How he relished in dreaming their retribution. He had kept the sword that plunged into her gut and examined it closer this time. It hadn't been cleaned, and remnants of a metallic blue substance was still on it. He would have to ask Angela to examine it right away.

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	3. Antidote

***I do not own the Inheritance Cycle…Also, monkeys.* **

**Antidote**

Eragon raced through a maze of tents, eager to show Angela his finds. He came to a stop at a green tent where wisps of smoke curled out of a jagged hole at the top.

"You would think that these tents would have holes of their own, what with the wind coming from all sides." She mumbled, not even glancing up from her work to see who it was. "It's like Swiss cheese!"

Eragon's eyebrows came together in a frown. "Come again, Angela?"

She waved her hands in annoyance. "It's nothing you need to know, boy." She turned from her work, placing a hand on her hip. "Now, why have you come to bother me?"

"I'm sorry for being such a nuisance," Eragon muttered. In a louder voice he declared, "But I came here to see if you could examine this sword" He held up a blood-caked sword that was starting to rust. "I have found, upon closer inspection, specks of blue that I suspect to be a type of poison. And I knew you specialized in this kind of stuff, so I came straight to you."

Eragon looked at his feet in embarrassment, waiting for a reply

Angela turned around, getting a set of leather gloves and and picked off a portion. Then, with faint lines of worry etched into her face, she hollered, "Be gone! I need to do some research. I will send a messenger to fetch you once I am done." And with that, she turned back to her work.

Hours had passed, but Eragon didn't notice. All that mattered was the person he loved could be dying and he hadn't even thought of all the possibilities. She could have brain damage. She might not be able to walk again.

_She might never wake up again._

Horror stuck Eragon at the god awful thought. Had he been so blinded by his love for her that he hadn't even reflected on what could possibly happen when-if she awoke? When had he become so selfish? He had forgotten. Forgotten the other half of his soul.

_Saphiraaaa! _

Alas, our grieving hero heard no answer. _She must have gone hunting, _he thought.

As he walked slowly back to the tent he had been sharing with Arya, Eragon could hear their pity-filled whispers …

"The poor boy, clinging onto hope like that."

But he didn't care; nothing would move him …

"Aye, he should let her go."

"Boys!"

Because he knew she would see the daylight again, even if it took a hundred years …

"Ouch, what was that for? It's not like he can hear us …"

He would wait.

As long last an agitated messenger came with a look of urgency that swirled in his dark grey eyes.

"Shadeslayer, come. Your presence is needed immediately." The bearer of the message looked no more than thirteen, though hardship was plain in his eyes.

"Very well, I know my way." Eragon was about to go to Angela's tent when he added, "You delivered your message well."

"Thank you, Shadeslayer, you flatter me." He said with a large grin plastered on his face.

"Yes, well, I had better be going."

The boy nodded his head tersely and stepped out of his path.

Like a bullet shot from a cannon, Eragon went racing to Angela's tent, a blur to any passerby's.

Not even winded, Eragon stepped into her tent, eyes locking onto a short figure hunched over a bulky book.

"Eragon, I thought you would never get here. Come, come. I have some something for you." She handed him a cup of steaming tea, a sweet earthly scent coming from it. He took a sip and was met by the most putrid taste that had ever met his mouth. It took all his will power not to immediately spit it out.

"Mind my asking, but what is this fowl concoction?" He questioned, a look of disgust on his face.

"Well it is an herbal relaxant that calms the nerves which will take effect in a few moments."

"What are you tal-" He instantly felt drowsy, and slumped into a chair that was conveniently behind him.

"Now the information I am about to tell you is a bit shocking. The poison on the sword is … Well, it's curable to say the least. I looked through a book of mine and found that it hasn't been used in hundreds of years. In fact, the actual plant went extinct nearly a century ago. It was called löfrudd wraíd, roughly translated into assassin's root. The extract from the root is most potent, though. Once inside the body, it makes the brain delirious, showing the one's worst fears and regrets. As the name suggests, assassins usually used the poison to kill their enemies efficiently and quickly."

Eragon's eyes widened in disbelief. "Wha-What are you saying then?"

Angela let out an exhausted sigh. "There's not much I can do for her." Eragon slumped in his chair, looking like a sad, pitiful puppy that was lost. "Don't give me that look, boy. I said there's not much _I _can do for her. You, on the other hand, can." This time, Eragon looked up in hope.

"But if the antidote is not delivered fast enough, Arya _will _die." Angela added in a serious tone.

"What are you waiting for then? You knew this yet you did not tell me in the beginning!" He yelled out in fury.

Angela's eyes narrowed. "There is no need to get angry, Eragon. I would be in an ample amount of trouble if I let the Queen's daughter die." She paused, making sure Eragon was listening. "To bring her out of her comatose, you will need to break into her mind, which, as you know, can be quite painful. You're going to have to be careful; one mistake can mean the instant death of both of you. What you do from there is up to you; how you decide to bring her back will be completely up to you."

As soon as Angela was done explaining Eragon jumped out of his seat and started for the flap of the tent when she called out a warning.

"Beware, Shadeslayer, her mind is fortified, poised to strike at all and any attackers. You may not be able to in …"

"I _will_ bring her back." Other mutters were heard as he stepped out of her tent and bolted to his own where Arya was kept.

Before Eragon knew it, he was at his tent and by Arya's side in minutes.

Eragon felt a cautious poke at his conscious and realized it was Saphira. He opened his mind and let hers flood his.

_Be careful, little one. Do not be rash. Your strength is little, and the day has reached its end. Rest today, and tomorrow your strength will be at full height, _Saphira said softly.

_And where have you been all this time, dear dragon of mine? _

_A poor attempt at rhyming, Eragon. _He heard a snort from above along with the sound of flapping._ You would have known if you had paid more attention._

Saphira landed with a thump and immediately curled into a tight ball. The remnants of the dying sun cast a glow upon her body, making it shimmer the only way a dragon's scales can.

_I…I realize I have no excuse. _He looked down while muttering, _I have been so self-centered that I could not see what was around me. And for that…you have my sincerest apologies. I wouldn't trade you for anything because I love you too much for anything to happen to you. _

Eragon looked up in hopes of forgiveness.

_It will take a lot more than a few petty words to forgive you… _Saphira smiled. _But I think it will do this one time._

Eragon's smile rivaled Saphira's in radiance, but that couldn't have mattered more. He jumped towards her open neck and hugged her for all she was worth.

_Little one … too… tight. _

He loosened his grip immediately. _Oops, I guess I still have to figure out my strength, eh Saphira?_

_Quite._

Eragon smiled again but it instantly turned into a frown. _I still have to heal her, Saphira. I can't just sit around doing nothing._

_You _have_ been doing things. _She ruffled Eragon's hair affectionately. _We captured Dras Leona successfully and because of _you _casualties were lower and the amount of soldiers, higher. _

_Thank you, Saphira, I needed that. __I love you, _he added warmly.

_I as well. Now get some sleep, you have a big day ahead of you._

***Keep on reading.***


	4. Horrors in Illusions

***I do not own the Inheritance Cycle…Also, moo.* **

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Horrors in Illusions**

The clouds in the air were tinted a light shade of orangey-pink as the sun started its slow assent into the sky. Shadows shortened and lengthened, trying to match the sun's rays, but never succeeding. And as the sun rose, creatures awoke from their slumber, stretching as they went. In a secluded tent, eyelids twitched and fluttered before finally opening to reveal chocolate brown eyes, swirling with urgency. He looked around frantically, searching every corner of his tent before sighing in relief as he planted his eyes on a slim form. Steady breathing could be heard with the rise and fall of her chest. Once positive that she was alright, he shaved his stubble with magic and put on a light sapphire tunic with black breeches. He did not eat, nor did he want to. All that mattered now was that his beloved elf was coming back.

Although Roran was not here because of a scouting mission, Nasuada and Angela were present should anything go wrong. Now came the moment he had been waiting for all theses months. Eragon looked at both women present, then to Saphira.

_Good luck, little one._

_Thank you, Saphira._

With confidence he told them, "I have been waiting long for this opportunity." He paused. "And I _will_ bring her back."

He looked back to Arya and prepared to go into her mind. Gently, he let a tendril of thought extend towards her melodic conscious. He was met by the most daunting wall he had ever faced as he was attacked by mental daggers that made his mind scream with pain. It felt like hammers pounding inside his brain, but he pushed onward, determined to break her wall down. He surrounded her conscious with his own, sending all his feelings of love and admiration. This distraction caused a crack in her defense, and immediately, Eragon wormed his way through before she could seal it shut. What he saw was like nothing he had ever seen before.

_Eragon was in a cell and for some reason, his body hurt all over. But when he looked down to his lap, he did not see tan bulky hands, instead slim pale ones. Footsteps suddenly echoed in the silent hallway, becoming louder with each passing second. Maroon hair and eyes accompanied with a cruel smile looked down at him. _

_Eragon closed his eyes without really doing it. He realized that he was in Arya's memories, going through the same things she had. _

_The Shade dragged him down an uneven hallway, rocked grazed his back, adding more pain to his already suffering body. They came to a stop at a steel door. He pulled a key, seemingly out of nowhere, and put it in the keyhole, slowly turning it as shafts came undone with a ker-shink as metal slid on metal. Inside, the chamber was dimly lit with two torches. Multiple torture items hung on the wall while a fireplace glowed brightly, heating up an iron rod with the Empire's symbol on it. _

"_Hmmm…I think I will start with this." He hissed, holding up a whip. "So simple… yet so painful." _

_He coated it with seithr oil, smiling wicked as he did so. The Shade raised his arm in preparation, and slammed down as hard as he could making it all the more painful. He screamed as he felt the seithr oil go into his wounds, making them burn and bubble. Eragon did not understand how Arya got through this. Every day of this kind of torture would surely break a person's mind._

She had many a secret as well. Ones that could devastate the entire world and throw it into chaos. She is truly not an elf to be clashed with, _he thought this as the scene changed abruptly, making him queasy. _

_He was on the Burning Plains, battling a strong opponent. At first he thought it was Murtagh again, but then he saw the silhouette of the body, a womanly figure with curves and a fierce light in her eyes. She quickly disarmed him with a flick of her wrist and thrust her sword into his abdomen. Liquid fire erupted as she pulled it out excruciatingly slow. He could feel no more as he fell, eyes rolling back into his head. A puff of dust flew up as his body hit the ground while his opponent malignantly cackled. _

_He gasped, shocked, as he stood atop a hill. Did she think she would betray him? But regrettably, he had no time to think as he was thrown into another nightmare. _

_Three people sat atop horses, clinging to their manes as they galloped swiftly. The lead guard, as that was what it looked like, switched places with the other who was behind the middle figure. Unexpectedly came an arrow, going straight through the heart of the first guard. Then another whizzed past, hitting the other in the gut. Her horse fell in the mud as it slipped, partially crushing her right leg. She quickly dismounted, a sac bobbing on her hip as she ran. Urgals swiftly followed her through the forest, jumping over logs, and avoiding branches, bloodlust clearly in their eyes. She ran till she was exhausted, hyperventilating and down-right weary. Finally, a clearing appeared, but the shade soon arrived, Urgals lurking in the background with weapons at the ready. _

_Arya was trapped and she knew it. All the sprinting had taken a huge effort on her, and she knew she would collapse any moment, or might as well die of exhaustion because of what she was about to do. _

_She took an object out of the bag, its smooth surface glowing in the dim moonlight, raising it as she mouthed a spell. The shade saw this and immediately charged at her, magic crackling in his hand. But he wasn't fast enough just as he was about to reach her, there was a burst of green light, and the next thing he knew was that the dead elf was of no use to him anymore. _

_He screamed in frustration, killing the rest of the Urgals with one word. _

_Eragon felt a lump in his throat as he looked at her motionless body, slowly getting angry. _

"No…No…Nooo! Arya!" He ran like he had never ran before, anger simmering beneath his skin, ready to explode at any minute. He looked down at her and released a blood-curdling scream of sorrow and hatred. He knew this wasn't real, yet it all looked so physical. Was this what Arya feared? Dying while sending Saphira's egg?

_Get a hold of yourself. This isn't real, it's just the poison. I have to find it, and quickly_, Eragon told himself firmly.

He tried to focus on the evil in Arya's mind, pinpointing it to the back of her head. It bubbled like tar, covering her mind, torturing it. He cornered it with his conscious, slowly overcoming it, drawing it into his own as he crushed it. He felt weak, so weak, but there was only a little left, he drew the rest in, returning to his mind just as he fainted.

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	5. Nothingness

***I do not own the Inheritance Cycle…Also, puppies.* **

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Nothingness**

He could feel nothing…See nothing…Hear nothing. It was just a black chasm of nothingness. Faint memories struggled to surface, to show their faces, to be free of the constricting bonds that held them down, but it was all for naught. Flashes of nightmares that were not his, passed before his eyes, some with such suddenness, he could not tell what was happening, only that the agonizing screaming would not stop. Others came slow; showing torture items that hung on the sides…walls splattered with blood, and a disfigured creature moaning on the grime-ridden floor.

He could hear someone screaming, screaming in harmony with the creature, sharing its pain and hopelessness. When would this suffering, this _torment, _end? What felt like hours, days, weeks of pain and anguish were only minutes, seconds even. A sense of time was lost, he did not think, he did not feel. His eyes; once so bright and cheerful were now a darker more sinister brown; black almost. He felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut off. The carefully constructed barrier around his mind shattered, letting the full blast of all the horrors consume him into nothingness.

All he wanted to do was curl into a ball, hide under some sheet covers, and hope that the entire affliction would go away. He wished that he was just a simple farm boy again, rising with the sun, and setting with it as the day came and went.

But no, he couldn't. He had to be strong. Strong for all the people who suffered from this cruel war. Strong for the future generation who could live without the fear of death with every step they took. Strong for the whole of Alagaesia and the creatures that resigned within it. He couldn't give up now, just when things were looking brighter, when it looked like the Varden actually had a chance to win this war of destruction.

But he felt so _tired_, so weak. What was the point in living anymore? He could just let go and be done with the world. There would be no more worries, mistakes, or regrets. It sounded wonderful to him; a fluffy pillow to jump on to without a care in the world. It was so easy, just to let go. To float and be lighter than a feather, freer than a bird, but something held him back from that blissful world, chaining him.

He could faintly see a light, just beyond his reach. He walked slowly towards it, but a whisper stopped him. He listened intently-there it was again! A faint roar, yes that was it! But his mind was in a jumble, unable to think clearly. His face scrunched up in confusion, trying to decipher what the noise was. He tried to recall what it was when it hit him. It was a dragon! A beautiful sapphire dragon, with all the grace of a wild cat, and the speed of a hawk. And it was _his _dragon: Saphira. How he wished he could see her. To hug her warm scales, and scratch her under the chin, just how she liked it. To fly and be one again, to feel the rush of cold air stinging his face, how divine that would be! Eragon grinned widely, already feeling the sensation of flying.

So, there was joy in the world after all; he just had to find it and enjoy it to its fullest. Saphira, Roran, Katrina, Arya, Nasuada, and even Angela had a place in his heart. He tried to regain consciousness, he tried so hard, but even opening an eyelid took almost all the energy he had, yet he knew he had to do it. A sliver of a russet eye appeared, but quickly shut because of the blinding white light. Slowly, he tried again, a slight stream of tears running down either side of his head. Finally, after a few painful minutes, he realized he was in Arya's tent still, but on the ground covered with blankets.

He swiveled his eyes left, right, up, down; any way to see what was happening. Then he noticed a blue muzzle sticking out of the flap of the tent.

_S-Saphira? _He asked a little shakily.

_Eragon! What happened to you? Are you alright? Does anything hurt? Is-_

Eragon stopped the flow of questions as he firmly, but gently said, _Please, Saphira, I am still partially confused as to what exactly happened. Now, if you could please explain to me what happened, I may be able to answer your __questions._

Saphira's eyes softened as she started to explain.

_You completely blocked me off as you went into Arya's mind. I tried to break through your barrier, but I just hit a concrete fortification of the likes I have never seen before. It-it was frightening; you just stood there with a blank face. _

He interrupted her as he said, You, _fri__ghtened? This is not the Saphira _I _know. _My _Saphira would be fearless, beautiful, and majestic in battle; ready to tear apart anyone who got in her way. _Eragon had a playful glint in his eyes.

_Eragon, this is a serious matter! You could have died! How could you think this is even slightly funny? _Saphira said in a sorrowful voice. _Where would that leave me? _

_I am so sorry Saphira. _He said truthfully. _I was not thinking straight. I had just wanted to get rid of the poison so bad, I had forgotten the risks and almost killed myself. I am not worthy of the title Dragon Rider. I was being selfish and did not think how it would affect others, and for that I apologize once again. _He had looked away in shame, not wanting to meet Saphira's eyes.

She shuffled closer to him and laid her head down next to him, ruffling his hair with her hot breaths.

_There is no need to apologize, little one, I understand how it feels. Your heart is pure, and the need to protect your loved ones is strong. That is why I chose you; never_ _doubt that. _She said fiercely, nuzzling his head.

Eragon turned to look into her blue orbs, seeing that they swirled with love and affection.

_Thank you, Saphira_. He stroked her gleaming scales as she rumbled softly, purring deeply in her throat.

When Eragon decided he had rested enough, he tried to stand up; first rolling onto his stomach, then arching his back while on all fours in an attempt to stretch his cramped muscles. He finally got up as he pushed himself off the ground with one final stretch. Eragon looked around and realized that he had forgotten all about Arya. She was still lying on her bed, but looking less pale than before. He quietly made his way over to her and looked down with a loving gaze. Her face was still sunken in, but to Eragon, she looked like a sleeping angel. Her delicate eyelashes were long and thick, while her lush red lips contrasted with her alabaster skin.

Eragon gently stroked her cheek, smelling the faint scent of crushed pine needles that emitted from her. Suddenly her eyes snapped open in fright, looking around in terror. Abruptly, her gaze stopped on the Dragon Rider's face.

Said rider now looked directly into her blazing gemstone eyes. "Arya?" Eragon questioned softly.

"Er-Eragon?" She asked back, her voice hoarse from lack of use. Arya looked on in confusion. Could this actually be real? Or was she just in another nightmare where she was about to pull her sword out of its sheath?

Slowly, Arya turned her head to look precisely at the Rider. Then, with a touch of hesitation, sat up and sluggishly swung her legs so they hung off the edge of her bed.

Eragon watched her, wondering if he, too, was dreaming. After all these months of worrying, waiting, and fighting, could she really be awake?

And as if in slow motion, Arya's hand weakly made its way up to Eragon's face where it rested and gingerly caressed his cheek, her fingers still feather soft.

"Is-is that really you Eragon?" The look of fear and hope battled for dominance as her eyes shook in anticipation.

He slowly nodded, leaning forward to hold her shaking frame, and sitting beside her, murmured words of comfort. But Arya sat rigidly, not accepting the fact that this was real. It was too good to be real. But she could feel Eragon's soothing presence and earthy smell. She leaned into him slightly, holding back tears as she let his scent wash over her. Finally she could hold them no longer, and as one spilled over, more soon followed.

Eragon caught some words she mumbled out through her sobs. "Killed…over…days…everybody…"

"Arya," he said firmly, catching her attention. "What you saw was not real; it was just the poison making you hallucinate. Everybody is still here…I am still here." He held her at the shoulders and tugged her gently towards him, giving her a bear hug. Arya gasped at the closeness of him, but gripped his shirt tighter, making sure he was still there.

"I…I saw what happened at Gil'ead," Eragon said in a quiet voice. Arya quickly looked up, then back down.

"How _much_?" She barely whispered in a desperate voice. "How much did you see?"

Eragon paused before he gave his answer, "All of it; I saw it all, and no one should have that kind of experience. I watched through your eyes, went through the same pain." Arya felt so exposed, hanging her head, anger and sadness coursed through her. "But no one deserved to go through that, let alone survive it again. Your will to live burned strong, with determination that I have never seen before made it impossible to crack your defenses." He praised her in a soft voice, encouraging her to look up at his proud face.

"No one was supposed to know what happened in Gil'ead. I failed in transporting Saphira's egg safely, only then to get captured and tortured for information." She started shaking again, memories clouding her mind. Eragon's hand went to her chin gently capturing it to make Arya look him in the eyes.

"You did not fail. That egg got transported to me, and hatched into a superb and beautiful dragon. If anything, you were more than successful. And you know what I believe?" Arya shook her head. "I believe that everything happens for a reason, and that Fate is on our side. We will be victorious in this war, and Galbatorix's reign will finally end," Eragon said all this with fierce vigor, and a blinding smile.

"That is why, Arya," he said, finally releasing her jaw. "We must win the war. For the future generation to live in peace; for their fathers and brothers to be home every night; to tuck their children into bed, and love them for all they are worth for. We must fight for those who are dear to us. Do you not see? It is that which gives me and all of the Varden strength to defend what is right and just."

"Do you not think that I already know that?" Arya said, getting slightly angry. "That is the reason that I fight also; to protect my home and people. Do not forget that I have been opposing Galbatorix much longer than you have, Rider." She hissed.

Eragon had no time to answer as the tent flap opened up to reveal Nasuada and Angela. By this time, they had separated and were sitting on opposite sides of her bed.

"Thank Gûntera you are both alright! We thought we had lost you." Nasuada walked towards Eragon and gave a sisterly hug. She then looked towards Arya and said uneasily, "Do you realize just how long you have been in a coma for? Half a year, Arya! The Varden have suffered a serious blow, and that is not all. Eragon here, has been at your side since you fell." Arya could tell Nasuada was a little disappointed by the tone of her voice. But then she looked to Eragon with his eyes focused on the ground in reproach, not believing that he would stay at her side all this time. Perhaps…Just this once, she was wrong about Eragon.

Angela interrupted her train of thought with a boastful statement, "I had to force him to even take a bath, let alone eat. Would you look at him, for the gods' sakes. He looks even worse than you, my dear friend." Arya looked closer at Eragon this time, seeing dark rings under his eyes which had a haunted aurora swirling about. She lowered her eyes to his unshaven face; it looked like he had been through Hell and back. Finally, Arya did a whole sweep of his body, taking in his haggard and gaunt appearance. _What has he done to himself, _the elf thought in dismay.

"Is this true Eragon?" Her words barely a whisper of despair. "You would stop fighting, just for the sake of one life?" She lowered her head, and gently shook it "How many lives have been lost because of me?"

Eragon looked up at her, then back down to the ground. He opened his mouth to say something, but his throat seemed to close up and strangle his words.

"How _many_?" Arya repeated sternly, glaring at Nasuada, then back to Eragon, only to be met by silence.

Finally, the Rider managed to choke out a couple words in a broken voice. "One…one thousand deaths."

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	6. Knowledge Rules All

***I do not own the Inheritance Cycle…Also, turtles.* **

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Knowledge Rules All**

Pits of blackness glared down at a bloodied and bruised figure that kneeled upon the dingy floor, his image mocked him as he gazed down, eyes full of despair and impending doom.

"Why," an angry voice asked."Is it that every time I send you out to do a _simple _task, you return with nothing but failure?" The hunched figure visibly flinched as the words were spoken with hidden poison. He raised his head, but did not look into the eyes of his master. "Explain to me boy, or would you rather spend a little time in that special room of yours, hmm?" The man's eyebrows lifted up in a suggestive manner.

"I…I pitied him." He quickly looked back down in anticipation of the coming agony.

"Pitied?" The master asked. "_Pitied?_" He roared in a cold, harsh voice. "This is war, boy. No life is spared; young, old…woman or children. If there is an obstacle in our way, we must eliminate it, and only then will there be true peace acquired." The man got up from his throne and started pacing. "You see, the Varden have caused this war, not I. Yet they continue to rebel, killing innocent lives. They are the true evil ones. Had they not rebelled, everyone would be mirthful, enjoying mead in a tavern instead of mourning the loss of their loved ones. I have tried to be compromising, but it seems they will simply not comply."

The boy on the floor started to wither in pain, coughing up blood and screaming in agony as bones cracked. Suddenly, it stopped, only for the master to raise his hand and throw him across the room where he lay still, his breath ragged.

"You have failed me time and time again, Murtagh. I will have no more of this! Your emotions are getting in the way, and that is why I will train you to kill without this-this _sadnesss_ you seem to harbor within you." He hissed in disgust.

"Once you have learned this, you might_ actually_ be able to defeat your fledgling of a brother."

Murtagh ignored his sarcasm and said while gasping painfully for air, "But my Lord Galbatorix, if I were to… kill him," he hesitated "Surely his dragon would die along with him?"

"You dare defy me, you ignorant little fool!" He bellowed. Galbatorix walked up to his slumped form, holding his chin and grazing his black nails across his skin, letting a slight amount of blood to trickle down onto his fingertips. He raised his hand, licking it off, all the while not taking his eyes away Murtagh.

"I have studied how to separate dragon from human for over _fifty _years. I have read books upon hundreds of books; none of which say how to separate a bond, but strengthen it. But," he said, letting go of Murtagh's chin and continuing to pace. "One little leather book caught my eye. It was not very big, however it had substantial amount of information I could use to quench my every need and desire. And do you know who it was written by? Of course you don't, imbecile, do not even try to answer that."

Galbatorix spat in his face, "It was written by the greatest of necromancers that ever lived: Coruhigil. His name roughly translates to cunning dagger. And a dagger he certainly was. His tongue so sharp it could weave spells like they were nothing, fabricate any lie, and kill anybody in his way.

"Of course," The king turned sharply, staring into Murtagh's eyes with black coals, "He cannot do that anymore since the war between the dragons and elves, for he has supposedly gone missing, and has not been seen since."

"And do you know where he is now, My Lord?" Murtagh asked, eyes filled with a tint of curiosity.

"Nobody knows what has happened to him, or where he has gone; only that he left a collection of personal notes. He was trying to find something…something that could change the whole of Alagaësia as we know it. And that something will help me in conquering this country and its people. I shall rule all!" He growled. "And when I do," The king's deep voice echoed, a frenzied look came into his eyes. "I will once again rise to power where magical creatures serve under me, and peace reigns."

Galbatorix's maniacal laughter rattled the black castle walls, resounding every which way with an ominous note of sinister evil.

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	7. One Too Many Thoughts

***I do not own the Inheritance Cycle…Also, penguins.* **

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One Too Many Thoughts**

Arya sat on her bed, contemplating the situation at hand. One thousand lives were lost, all for the sake of one. _That ignorant fool of a boy and his cursed infatuation! _How long will it last until he realizes it's not real, and does something irreparable? Why must Fate hate me so? What have I done to earn the responsibility of breaking a child's heart and dream? Arya sighed and massaged her temples. _It has only been a couple hours since I have awoken, and yet, I already have a burden upon my shoulders once more. _She inhaled deeply in an effort to calm herself, and exhaled slowly, making a slight whistling sound.

How could she let something like this happen? Why hadn't she been strong enough to fend for herself? She was an elf; strong, majestic, fierce. To be beaten by a human is a disgrace. But that soldier…he was not normal by any means. He had been aiming for something else, or rather some_one_ else. But who is the real question. No sooner than she had thought that than memories started to swarm around her mind, engulfing it until everything on the outside was shut out…

_The clanging of metal and battle cries was all around. Empire soldiers wearing black armor mixed in with the silver of the Varden. Arya slashed a man's arm off, just as he tried to kill a Varden soldier. He screamed in pain as blood spurted from a newly formed stump before he was quickly silenced, his feeble attempts to breathe came out as a gurgle. _

No…I cannot die here! Not now! What will happen to Finna? And the children…oh the poor children. What will happen when news of my death reaches them? _His vision started dim into a comforting darkness until the sounds of battle faded. The soldier slowly closed his eyes as he thought in bitter remorse, _So, this is this how it ends then; defeated by a mere woman? Well my children, Finna…know that I have always loved you all. My time grows short, and now I must say my last good bye.

_His eyes grew heavy, fluttering shut with the scene of a blood-red sunset burned into his mind. His chest gave one last shuttering heave before he became still, forever encased in the grips of Death. _

_Arya watched impassively as the soldier died before moving on to the next person who dared challenge her. He was wearing standard battle armor; chest plate, shin guards, and anything else he could scrounge up. But his helmet struck her as odd, if anything else. It had the symbol of the Empire, yet as a whole, it resembled a dove. _

_How ironic that this soldier is fighting in a war, yet his helmet signifies peace. _Well then, _Arya thought, _just one more arrogant soldier to get rid of.

_She watched the soldier from afar, silently calculating her moves out. He came nearer, and nearer, until he was only about a hundred or so feet away, onyx helmet gleaming in the fiery sun. Slowly, he turned his head towards her, grinning wickedly before charging, emitting a battle cry from deep within his throat. The soldier raised his sword and struck at Arya, causing her to slide back from the blow. She quickly retaliated, shaking off her shock as she did so. _

Just who is this person? _Arya narrowed her eyes in suspicion while she tried to break into his mind. _

What? _Arya thought as she hit a solid steel wall._ How is this possible? An ordinary human cannot be capable of this!

_In a futile attempt to catch the mysterious man off guard, Arya spoke a word of the Ancient Language, blinding him. She quickly dove knowing her time of opportunity would run out soon, and thrust her sword towards his heart. The sound of steel against steel met her ears once more. Arya growled in frustration. This man simply would not die! Her energy was slowly dwindling while this man did not even seem break a sweat. _

_The soldier saw an opening from behind and drove his sword forward, straight into his opponent's gut. _

_Arya gave a shuddering gasp as she looked down to see the blade protruding from her stomach, dark blood dripping off slowly. The dove-helmeted soldier savagely ripped his foil from her gut, ensuing all the more damage. She coughed once, spitting out blood, and as if in slow motion, she fell to the ground, hair billowing about, and face-planted. Faintly, she heard the man walk past her and towards his next opponent; the gasp of horror told her all she needed to know to whom exactly was behind her before the welling blackness caught up with her. _

Of course there would have been an assassin during a battle. The chaos and death is perfect concealment for such a thing; it would go unnoticed until a death count was done. But the question was why had the man tried to kill a mere soldier. Sure, the soldier would have gotten in his way, but the dove-helmeted man's gait sounded purposeful, as if he had the intent of killing the man was his only job, and she had gotten in his way.

_Was there something special about him? Or was the man just another hindrance to his main purpose? _

Arya groaned in frustration. There were so many questions with too little answers. Why did everything have to be so difficult?

Arya got up from her cot and strode out of her tent, intent on finding the mysterious soldier.

_But is he still alive…_?

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	8. All is Fair in Fun and War

***I do not own the Inheritance Cycle…Also, koalas.***

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All is Fair in Fun and War**

_She should be thanking me for saving her life! Instead she blames me for the deaths of others when many more have been lost in other battles. _Eragon huffed and sat down angrily on his cot.

Saphira poked her head into Eragon's tent._ You know as well as I do that Arya is under a lot of stress right now. Do not go complaining to me that she is not paying attention to you. _Black smoke curled out of her nose as Saphira gave a pointed look of hurt towards Eragon, closing off her mind to his.

"Saphira…" Eragon trailed off and walked out of his tent. "I did not mean for it to sound as if I cared for Arya more than you." He placed his hand on her elegant head, stroking it soothingly.

She turned her head to the other side, not quite forgiving Eragon. He took a step towards Saphira, raising two hands in a threatening manner, and dived, attacking her unprotected belly, and tickling her with all his might.

_Eragon! What are you-? _

Saphira didn't get to continue as Eragon commenced his attack and she laughed her dragon-laugh of grating stones.

With a look of concentration Eragon said, "Do you forgive me now?"

_N-ha-ha-never! _

"Very well then, I suppose I will just have to torture you until you yield," he proclaimed with a smile.

_Please! No-ha-ha-ha-ha-no more! I think my sides are about to burst!_ Saphira tried to wriggle out of Eragon's grasp, only to fail miserably in a fit of draconic laughter.

"Do you yield, Queen of the Skies?"

_I submit! Now would you please stop tickling me, I may just die of laughter_! Saphira pleaded.

Eragon stopped and smiled at her once more. _I did not know that you were jealous? _It sounded more like a statement than a question.

_I am most certainly not jealous of Arya, thank you very much. I simply just miss the old days where we played together with no worries or interruption._ Saphira sighed, causing smoke to come out of her mouth. _Now with this harsh war, we hardly spend much time together anymore, and you are always in those pointless war meetings when the council does not even need your opinion! _

_Oh Saphira, _Eragon said morosely,_ you should have said sooner. _He wrapped his arms around her neck, and squeezed her reassuringly. _After this war is over, we will stay in the Hadarac (sp?) Desert as long as you want, and I will even give up trying to woo Arya. _

_Would you really? _She asked meekly, feeling like a hatchling again_. _

"Really, really." Eragon said, fully confident.

_I do not want to make you suffer any more than you have to, little one. I am sure Arya will come around eventually, _Saphira smirked a little, _Though, I am not sure she will be able to keep up with all the danger you attract. _

_I do not attract danger; most people just don't like, or are too blind to see that I am trying to fight for the freedom of Alagaësia. _Eragon replied, a slight hint of sarcasm entering his voice.

_Whatever you say, Eragon. _

_It's the truth, and you know it! _

Saphira ignored him and instead asked, _Would you like to experience the __exhilarating feeling of flight? _

_Are we one then? _Eragon inquired while jumping onto her back.

_We are one!_ Saphira hummed with content, and jumped into the sky before flying thousands of feet into the air and plummeting down towards the earth, snapping her wings open at the last second.

Eragon whooped with joy as Saphira performed more complex maneuvers, putting strain on her wings while suddenly floating upwards from a warm draft of air. They flew for hours, enjoying each other's company and relishing the time they had together before inevitable battles to come.

Suddenly, Saphira said,_ Are you getting heavier, little one?_

_Are you suggesting that I am fat, Saphira? _Eragon questioned in a teasing tone.

_Oh no, not at all, little one, the winds are just not in my favor today. _

_I can tell. You're straining your wings, why don't you take a nap and rest while I sort out some issues at hand?_

_Hmm, that sounds very tempting. But I wouldn't want to leave you all by your lonesome, though. _

He patted her back comfortingly, _Do not worry about me, I will have plenty of company if all goes according to plan._

Saphira craned her neck to look back at him. _And what exactly are you planning to do on this fine day? _

_You might want to turn your head around before we crash, Saphira. _He grinned widely, knowing that his evasive tactic worked.

_I will eventually find out, you know. You cannot keep anything from me for long. _

_That is true, friend of my heart, but I would like to try something on my own before any consultation. _

_Are you sure that that is wise, little one? Remember what happened last time when you acted out of rashness before thinking? _Saphira pointed out, thinking back to the Agaetí Blödhren.

_Yes I have, but I did think this out, even though it may not go as planned. _

Saphira sighed, gliding slowly towards the ground in lazy circles and landing with a thump caused by her enormous girth. Eragon jumped off skillfully, dropping to the ground softly while Saphira curled up into a tight ball.

_I love you, Saphira. _Eragon said tenderly.

_I as well, Eragon…_She echoed sleepily, drifting off into the world of dreams.

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	9. The Freedoms of Loopholes

***I do not own the Inheritance Cycle…Also fish.***

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The Freedoms of Loopholes**

"You are dismissed, Murtagh. Now get out of my sight, you insignificant pest!" Galbatorix spat his name out with disgust. He returned to his black throne, lazily throwing one leg over the arm of his seat before picking at the dirt under his nails.

Murtagh bowed low, loathing himself all the more for even doing such a thing. "Thank you…My Lord."

He shuttered, he hated saying such words to the man he most despised. It's not as if he liked doing these types of things – he was forced to. It was as if Galbatorix had Murtagh under lock and key; controlling what he did, where he went, with very little freedom whatsoever. Murtagh turned around and walked slowly towards the looming black door, limping.

"Was that hesitation I heard, Murtagh?" The king asked in a sickly sweet voice. Murtagh stopped his slow journey abruptly, wincing slightly when he felt a pressure build in his mind; a threat if he did not answer.

"N-No, My King, of course not. Perhaps you heard wrong?" He asked meekly.

Galbatorix turned his attention away from his black nails and onto Murtagh, glaring at him. "Do you dare insult my intelligence, boy?" Spittle flew from his mouth.

"Of course not, I was simply suggesting that you had perhaps heard wrong. Now, please, would you allow me to rest before the ambush tomorrow?"

The king scoffed, "Humph, very well, scum." Galbatorix muttered something to himself, chuckling slightly and nodding as if in agreement with himself.

Murtagh sighed in relief, glad that he had escaped with only a little punishment.

_What do you mean only a little_? A voice said in Murtagh's head_, I can feel your soreness, and cracked ribs, and that splitting-_

_I know Thorn, _Murtagh cut in, a_nd I appreciate your concern for my wellbeing; it will only take some magic to heal it up. The fact that I am still conscious and able to walk is far better than being unconscious and bleeding while Galbatorix, that vile man, searches through my mind. _

Thorn keened softly, _But you are still hurt when you did nothing wrong. _He then growled angrily. _I wish we could just fly away from here and be free. _

Murtagh felt guilty, Thorn had never known the taste of freedom, being burdened to be his rider and serve that daft cretin of a king since he was a hatchling. Not only that, he had been forced to go through the painful process of enlarging his girth to match and, eventually, outgrow Saphira in size and muscle with the help of the Eldunari.

_I know Thorn, I have thought about escape every day, but Galbatorix knows our true names. We can do nothing more unless we change ourselves completely. Until that day comes, we are lions pacing in a cage, waiting to be let out._

Although he hated the king, Murtagh could not say that he was not being treated rightly. In fact, he could have been spoiled rotten with all the luxuries that came with being the king's right-hand man. But he chose not to accept any of those impractical and pointless items; they were simply not to his liking.

Instead, he went to the vast Gardens where everything was green with life and blooming flowers at every corner. Winding paths carved throughout it, creating the perfect scene or secluded sections meant for meditation or simply for the peace and quiet that the animals created when gently running through the vegetation. He would go there before the attack; the Gardens always helped calm his nerves. It was the only thing that he would regret leaving when the blasted war was finally over, and he could, at long last, be with the love of his life, Nasuada.

She was probably with another man by now, having long since given up when Murtagh seemingly joined Galbatorix's forces. But he hadn't given up hope, not yet. Murtagh could almost taste freedom when the Varden march their way each time, getting closer and closer to the final battle that would end all battles.

_Stay where you are, I will come to you. I can feel your weariness. And stop moping; I hate it when you do that. _

Murtagh expressed his gratefulness run through their link, sitting down heavily on a patch of grass.

Thorn jumped into the sky, flapping twice to gain to altitude, and zoomed away towards Murtagh. He barrel-rolled up into the clouds, enjoying the feeling of the bite of the wind on his blood red scales. He snapped at a bird that got too close in his air space for his liking, crunching it once, and swallowed.

Down below, Thorn saw a tiny speck, and dived towards it. Murtagh looked up at Thorn, grinning, as he awaited for his arrival. It looked like Thorn was going to crash into the ground when suddenly he flared his wings, abruptly halting his descent, landing first on his hind legs, then his front with a thud.

Murtagh spread his arms out in welcome while Thorn stepped into his embrace gently so as not to hurt his rider. He breathed in his sooty scent, stroking his rough scales, happy to be reunited with his dragon once more.

_Take my energy, Murtagh. You do not have enough to heal yourself. _

_Very well, Thorn, if you do not mind. _

_You know that I never mind, Murtagh. _Said Thorn earnestly.

Thorn opened his mind fully, allowing Murtagh to enter it, seeing all his memories from the day he was a hatchling up until now, where he had grown into a fine, juvenile dragon. Although his size contradicted that, his mind was still that of a child, the only thing Galbatorix could not grow at a fast pace. He couldn't risk any amount of damage that would have ended in an unstable mind. And in Galbatorix's head, an unstable mind meant a useless dragon. All he needed was bronze, not brains.

Imprinting aerobatics into Thorn's muscles was all that Galbatorix needed to win battles; strategies and plans went to the other half that makes a dragon and rider one. With this, the king thought that his scheme was flawless, but what he did not intend was for there to be loop holes.

Murtagh had been teaching Thorn the Ancient Language in hope that one day…one day it might come to use; to tell truths, and nothing more. It is only possible to lie if you believe. And to believe is to risk to hope. *To hope is to risk pain. To try is to risk failure. But risk must be taken, because the greatest hazard in the world is to risk nothing.* That is what Murtagh learned in the real world, where risks were taken every day by normal people. Tornac had taught him this, and Murtagh valued everything his deceased master is and was.

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*The starred sentence is a quote I "borrowed" from somebody, and if anybody **_**does **_**claim ownership of it, I will take it off if necessary or give credit to its rightly owner. **

**Keep on reading.***


	10. Unlikely Predicament

***I do not own the Inheritance Cycle…Also, flamingos.*

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**Unlikely Predicament**

Eragon walked away from Saphira, heading for Arya's tent. Just as he was about to knock on the wooden post, the flap opened up to reveal Arya deep in thought. She was focusing on the ground so she did not see Eragon, and bumped into him, causing both of them to fall in a tangle of limbs.

The positions they ended up in were quite questionable, and would be laughed upon in the future because of the ridiculousness of the whole situation. Arya was now positioned on top of Eragon, her legs straddling him while her head was directly above Eragon's whilst his hot breath blew into her face. Eragon had wrapped his arms around her waist, and squeezed Arya subconsciously to him, making her squeak slightly.

Arya eyes widened somewhat, just now realizing exactly what arrangement they were in.

Now if Eragon could just lean his head up, and tilt slightly to the side, he would be able to –

Arya coughed nervously, embarrassed that she hadn't been paying attention to her surroundings. "Perhaps we should…untangle ourselves before anyone sees us and starts spreading rumors, shall we?"

_Bârzul, I was so close, too. _Eragon thought in bitterness_. No, bad Eragon! I told Arya I would not pursue her anymore, and here I am thinking of _kissing _her for Gûntera's sake!_

Slowly, Eragon unwrapped his arms from Arya's waist, heat rushing to his cheeks as he realized what he had just done. He quickly said, "I apologize Arya Svit-kona, I do not know what overcame me. I will make sure that this never happens again. Forgive me for my clumsiness." By now Arya was standing, wordlessly offering a hand to Eragon, who took in firmly with one of his, relishing the soft touch. She pulled him up easily, and let go quickly, slightly saddened at the loss of warmth.

"Eragon, you must stop your incessant babbling, it is I who is at fault. I was not paying attention to my surroundings and caused this whole mishap." She smiled slightly, "Now, what was it that you needed of me?"

He was shocked to say the least. Eragon had at least suspected reprimand of some sort, but instead found that Arya had waved it off as if it were nothing more than a mere fly.

He stood with his mouth agape, not believing a single word that came out of her mouth. Eragon did a double-take just to make sure that this was the legitimate Arya.

Eragon narrowed his eyes warily, keeping them on her while he reached for his sword if the need arises. "Who are you, and what have you done with Arya?"

Arya creased her eyebrows in confusion and looked at him as if he had gone crazy. "What in all of Alagaësia are you talking about, Eragon?" She hesitated for a moment before saying, "Are you inebriated, Shadeslayer?" She, too, narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"Why would you possible think that, Arya Svit-kona?"

She countered with a question of her own. "Why would you think I am not the real Arya?"

"Because…The real Arya has yet to recover from her coma, and yet, you look as healthy as can be, imposter!" Eragon quickly pulled out his sword, pointing it at the false Arya's neck with practiced ease.

In a deadly voice, Eragon asked, "I will ask you this once more – who are you…and what have you done with the real Arya?"

Fake Arya turned up her nose, "Humph, and why would I tell you that, scum?"

"Because…If you do not, I could kill you in an instant." Eragon pricked her neck to make sure the point got across. (No pun intended.) Blood spurted from the newly acquired wound, dribbling down the fake Arya's neck.

Fake Arya's eyes slowly started to fade from a forest green to an icy blue. "Touchy, are we, Shadeslayer?" She said lightly.

Eragon growled. "What do you think you're doing here, Trianna?"

"Just a minute ago you were enjoying yourself, why not with me instead of that elf mongrel?" Trianna flipped her hair, and put a hand on her hip.

Eragon's eyes, too, started changing color. He walked up to Trianna, sheathing his sword, his angry brown eyes flecked with a deep rich blue. Gently, almost as if he cared, Eragon wrapped his arms around Trianna's waist, softly replying, "You are too right, Trianna. Why spend all my love on her when she just rejects it?" In turn, Trianna twined her arms around Eragon, enjoying the feeling of his warmth.

"I'm glad you see it my way." She whispered into his ear. He stroked her hair almost lovingly, silently slipping out a dagger from a hidden sheath in his sleeve. Still stroking her hair, he put the blade to Trianna's neck. She felt the cold bite of metal on her neck, and gasped.

Eragon whispered harshly. "What do you think you are doing, _witch_? What goal are you trying to achieve in attempting to seduce me, because I see through every little plan of yours. I also know for a fact that you are the head of the Black Hand, and that you're also spying for that spiteful _king_, Galbatorix." Eragon didn't allow Trianna a chance to speak. "I should just kill you right now and save you the trouble of getting to the castle dead."

Trianna chuckled darkly. "I see you're not fooled in the least bit." She smiled wickedly. "Although…" She trailed her fingers up his arm. "I could just do this…" She kept trailing her fingers until she reached Eragon's shoulder. She reached for something behind his back, and pulled. "Instead." She finished, holding out another hidden dagger that glinted in the sunlight and plunged it into her heart.

Trianna instantly lost strength, buckling to her hands and knees, hacking blood out viciously. She looked up for a moment, gasping, and smiled. "You…will not see…" She attempted to suck in air, but coughed up blood instead. It trickled down her chin. "The last of Galbatorix…fool…"

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	11. A Change of Scenes

***I do not own the Inheritance Cycle…Also, squirrels.* **

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A Change of Scenes**

Nasuada ran a hand through her hair, sighing as she did so. She hadn't gotten a wink of sleep these past days because of all the stress. Now, as a result, there were dark bags under eyes betraying her. Jörmunder had seen them, and suggested she get some sleep, but Nasuada refused. The Empire hadn't attack in over a forte night, and she was getting suspicious. She had gathered her council to plan for a surprise attack, but as more time passed, it seemed like it was all a waste of time. Now was not the time to sleep, but Nasuada knew that if she didn't get any soon, she would fall over from exhaustion.

Quietly, she slumped in her chair, and rested her eyes. The next thing she knew, she was gently being shaken awake by Jörmunder. She blinked blearily at him before letting out an expansive yawn that cracked her jaw.

"Jörmunder…?" Nasuada questioned sleepily. "How long have I been asleep for?"

Said man tensed up. "Well, let me just say good morning, My Lady."

Nasuada sat up quickly, only to get hit with a wave of dizziness. Jörmunder put a steadying hand on her arm.

"Why did you not wake me up sooner?" Her voice held a slight edge to it, but had yet to rise up in anger.

He sucked in a breath. "I had thought since you seemed under so much pressure, to allow you to sleep and rest your mind somewhat. A rested body means a rested mind, My Lady…" Jörmunder trailed off, somewhat afraid of his leader's reaction.

Nasuada put both hands on her face, and replied in a muffled manner, "Jörmunder…while I am grateful that you would take it upon yourself to insure that I get enough sleep, I would rather insure the safety of the Varden before I do so." She removed her hands, and stood up. "Now, report. What is our position, total count of soldiers and food supply?" Authority radiated off the Varden leader.

Jörmunder stood up straight. "As of now, My Lady, we are still marching to Dras-Leona with 65, 768 soldiers who are all battle-ready; 1,347 soldiers are still in healing tents. Once we have successfully captured Dras-Leona, we will take in any soldiers willing to help. Our food supply will only last a month and a half if we ration it out correctly."

Nasuada looked Jörmunder up and down. "Is that all, Jörmunder?" She questioned.

He bowed low. "Yes, My Lady."

"Very well, then." She plopped herself on her chair and sighed heavily. "I have had enough formalities to last a lifetime, Jörmunder."

"Quite." He agreed.

She waved her arm to the seat across from her. "Please, have a seat. I'll go make us some tea." She stood and went to a small stove.

Jörmunder took a seat beside Nasuada's. "How have you been aside from all the stress from the Varden?"

She hesitated before answering. "Nothing aside from the usual…although," Nasuada looked up from the boiling kettle and let out a deep breath. "I just wish my father was here to help me. He was always in control and…I just miss him so much."

She let out a small tear, but immediately whipped it off. She had to be the stone pillar of strength for her people; that meant not showing an ounce of weakness.

Jörmunder got up slowly and gently put a comforting hand on Nasuada's shoulder. She in turn spun around and clenched onto the fabric of his shirt tightly and buried her head in his chest. Surprised at the show of affection, Jörmunder awkwardly put his arms around her and patted her back.

"There, there, Nasuada. Just let it all out," he said soothingly. His shirt soon became wet, but he didn't mind. Keeping one's emotions inside you could be dangerous; so he allowed her to let all her pent up emotions to be free.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "This must be extremely awkward for you." She then laughed bitterly. "To see the Varden's leader so broken and crying all over you can't be good for an image of a strong leader."

"Everyone has their moments, and you're no different," he said softly. "Come, everyone is waiting in the war tent for you. Wash yourself up and drink some tea." Jörmunder smiled at her and made to leave.

"Wait…" Nasuada called out.

Jörmunder turned around and raised an eyebrow. "Yes, My Lady…?"

She smiled at him and quietly said, "Thank you…I don't know where I'd be without you keeping this head of mine on my shoulders."

He chuckled softly. "You're quite welcome, Nasuada." Jörmunder turned again, opening the tent flap and exited.

Nasuada shook her head slightly before going back to the now cooled tea.

Deep underground a man guffawed loud and evil. "Yes, everything is coming into place. Very soon, I will take back what was once mine and rule everything. The old fool won't even know what hit him." He chuckled once more before looking down at a small white oval. He caressed its smooth surface before placing it on a small pedestal under a shaft of light.

"Just a little more, and you will be the key to it all."

The man smiled, showing crooked, yellow teeth.

Eragon quickly shoved the now dead Trianna off his body and went inside Arya's tent. It looked like a tornado had ransacked everything inside. Papers were strewn about, clothing flung every which way, and fairths broken and blank.

He growled angrily. _I wish I could have killed Trianna myself. _

Quickly, he made his way to the back of the tent where he found the real Arya tied up with a gag in her mouth. _She was probably drugged so she wouldn't be able to use magic to escape_, he thought.

"Arya," he whispered. When she didn't respond he shook her shoulder gently and again called her name. Eyes slowly fluttered before opening to reveal dull emerald. Arya squinted at him and squeezed her eyes shut as if in pain.

Eragon sighed. "I'm going to have to pick you up so I can untie you, alright?"

After a pause, Arya nodded her consent. Slowly, he put his hands under her shoulders and another under her knees, and lifted her up. Eragon walked over to Arya's bed and set her down gently. Taking out a knife, he cut the ropes binder her feet and hands, lastly cutting away the gag.

Arya rubbed her sore joints, quietly thanking Eragon. He sat down next to her and took her small hands in his larger ones.

"Waíse heil," he muttered.

Arya sighed exasperatedly. "You don't have to do that, Eragon." For once he didn't answer and kept concentrating on healing her wrists.

"I know you've been drugged," he mumbled. "Done. Give me your ankles." Eragon looked up when he realized she wasn't going to do it.

"What if there was a surprise attack from the Empire and you couldn't even walk, let alone fight?"

Arya just pouted and relinquished her ankles, setting them on his thighs lightly. Again, he muttered "Waíse heil."

"Now, tell me what happened." Eragon set her ankles down and turned to Arya fully

Arya sighed and rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I was going to look for a certain soldier…"

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*Keep on reading.***


	12. Apprehended

***I do not own the Inheritance Cycle ... Also, gerbils.**

**Waring: More than slightly gruesome writing. :S*  
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**Apprehended**

The rustling of chains echoed in the quiet room. Groggy eyes wearily opened to see faint light coming from the top of the area. It blinked slowly.

Where was he?

He looked up, but even that little action caused him pain. Now he remembered; the way they whipped him, starved him. Torture. Those _animals _had no soul if that was the way they treated other human beings. He rolled his neck slightly, wincing faintly at the pain. The pale glow that illuminated his dank, dark, _godforsaken_ cell gave barely enough light to see his other wounds. His finger looked a little weird, bending at the wrong angle and purple with various bruises. His arm was no worse for wear; it had some faded lacerations … Oh, and a new one; deep too. There were even flies feasting on his flesh, rubbing their greedy little legs in anticipation of a meal. At least not everything had abandoned him. Or perhaps he was even too pathetic for them; they had already buzzed away and onto the next cell with a rotting … something… On the other side, his right, half his pinky was missing. He frowned. How … unfortunate …

_Now ... where has it ... gone_, he thought.

The figure moved it slightly, revealing that it was just barely attached to the other half. _Oh .. there it is. I was wondering if they had finally cut it off. _He shrugged his shoulders slightly in indifference so as to avoid any more unnecessary stinging, throbs, aches; everything that could possibly cause him hurt.

How had he gotten here, he wondered. Was he in trouble for doing something he shouldn't have? Or perhaps it was because he killed someone by accident.

No, no, that wasn't it. It was a mission … He had been in charge of a scouting mission to … to get the last egg? No, that was wrong.

Had he gone to spy? Perhaps it was on the Empire's whereabouts. Yes, that was it. And then … And then his group had gotten ambushed by those blasted men. He had fought and spilled so much blood and screamed till his throat ran dry, but they were dreadfully outnumbered. He killed so many and their lifeless eyes stared back at him; inquiring him, judging him, pleading and begging and asking why … why … _why_?

It was supposed to be a simple information retrieval mission, and he had gotten captured. Only he; the rest had died in that … that _massacre_.

_Blast it all_. The man's gaunt face came together in a frown as he came to another conclusion. _They must have drugged me. That's why I must … be feeling so … slow. Though … I see no use in it, seeing as there isn't a … magical bone in my body. Tch … they won't be getting anything out of me. I … rather die …_

_And what of your wife_, a voiced whispered ominously in the back of his mind.

My … wife?

_Yes, yes, your wife. And your dear brother, too. I bet he will think you're dead and weep over you till no end once he hears what's become of you._

No end? Is there really … no … end?

The man had no time to think; another had entered with a leather mask and a whip. He whimpered slightly, already feeling the stinging upon his back and the screams scratching out of his throat, making it raw with pain and-

There was no crack of a whip, or heavy footsteps that usually accompanied it this time, no man with a leather cowl. Instead, blues eyes flashed dangerously upon approaching the man.

"What do you think you're doing here," the man snarled coldly. "Lying there like a drunken fool with no integrity?"

The other man said nothing, looking off to the side with a visible flinch. He didn't need this reprimanding; he did it to himself enough already.

"And can you tell me why _I _was sent down here when I was just done healing my wounds?" Still yet, the quiet echo of dripping water was his only answer.

He came forward and gripped the man's hair, ignoring the wince of pain that went through the other's body. "Well … _Can you_?"

The man was still looking to the side.

"_Jeirda_," he whispered cruelly. _Snap_. He grunted and bit his lip to stifle the pain.

It was just another thing broken now. Like it would make a difference anyway; he could still feel it – the excruciating pain – just not the same way he used to. It would never be the same ever again.

"_Why …_" He whispered back gravelly. "_Murtagh …_?"

Murtagh laughed harshly. "You think I want this; to hurt my half-cousin? The only family I have left besides Eragon?" He laughed again. "You don't get it. _I was forced to_. Nothing will change that. Not escaping, not redeeming myself, not changing my goddamn name. Nothing.

"Can't you see? I've given up on trying to change and freeing myself by helping people. I'm _done._"

Murtagh rubbed his face tiredly and looked at the pitiful man sitting on the ground between his fingers. "I can't even kill you if I tried. All I can do is torture."

He turned back to the door, reaching out for something and placing it in front of the man. "I am still human even though you may think I'm not. Now eat, you're not going to be able to get this much food for a while."

The man chuckled but it quickly turned into hacking coughs. Blood spattered Murtagh's breeches as he came closer. Slowly, he let a hand go to the man's soiled chest that was barely covered by the rags that were his clothes.

"Waíse heil," Murtagh spoke softly. Gradually, the man's breathing returned to normal. "Perhaps you shouldn't do that anymore, eh?" He faced his back toward the wall and slid down slowly, landing with a slight thump next to the man.

"What am I supposed to do with you, Roran? I can only keep you alive so much longer before Galbatorix finds out what I've been up to."

"Don't … Pity me…" Roran mumbled.

"Have you already thrown your life away and let it rot here? To refuse help in such a horrible condition …" Murtagh shook his head dejectedly. "The least you can do is eat the food I brought."

Roran barely shook his head. "Can't …"

"Can't what? Eat? Or are you refusing again? So help me, Roran, I will-"

Again, a slight shake of the head. "First … one."

Murtagh sighed. He reached his hand for Roran's throat, muttering once again while his hands glowed a slight red. "That is all I can do for now. The beating Galbatorix gave me did a number on me." Murtagh let out a slightly trembling breath. "At least he doesn't check over the oaths he has put on me …"

Roran voiced a scratchy "Thank you" as he sighed in relief. His other wounds would have to wait.

Murtagh raised an eyebrow, though Roran could hardly see in through the darkness of his prison. "The least I could do. Right now, though, you need to escape. I knocked out the guards, so you have about two hours to get out of here. There's a passageway to the surface once you escape. Go back to the Varden and tell them … Tell them there will be an ambush-"

Murtagh suddenly went into a fit of pain. "Go now … before someone … comes."

Roran looked hesitant and glanced at his shackles.

"_J-jeirda. _Now … _go._"

Roran painfully got up, inching his way up the wall until he stood fully. Adrenaline flowed through his veins.

One step. And then another. And another. Finally, steps turned into an excruciatingly slow walk towards freedom. Roran took one last look at Murtagh who was still breathing harshly, but now unconscious.

_Thank you … cousin …_

Shaking his head, he pushed the metal door open with tremendous effort that left him breathless. _After this, I will never be out of shape again …_

He didn't see any guards, courtesy of Murtagh, so he silently (except for the occasional groans of pain) made his way down the musty hall, constantly twisting his neck as much as his condition allowed (which wasn't much).

_Click … clack … Click … clack …_

_I thought ... I thought he got rid of all the guards! What am I supposed to do now? I can't possibly ... defeat them! Think, Roran ... think! Magic is out of the question, I can't fight … Do I just wait ... like a sitting duck? Another way, another way … There has to be another way!_

There were only a few lanterns here and there, but it was enough to see the impending guards' shadows. To his left, the bricks were cut and shaped into a small, arched opening.

_Click… CLACK … Click … CLACK …_

The footsteps were coming closer. If he went through the little entrance, it could mean freedom. But if it was just a folly, then he would end up dead. It could also be a trap but-

He sorely got onto one knee and started tugging at the nonexistent crevice gingerly. There was a grinding sound, and then it came open. Roran would never forget what he saw that day…

People … Hundreds of them were milling about, doing various chores that included cooking, washing clothes, feeding animals, and even a child with glum a face getting a bath in a sink. It was a whole community of people simply … _living_. Roran got up in wonder, even his aches numbing with awe. This … This _city _was not possible. Yet, it lived and breathed like a giant monster. Had no one noticed this secret society? Or perhaps it wasn't secret at all? Maybe it was just an illusion cast by magic, or perhaps they were all slaves …?

Either way, whispers started to sound, and fingers were pointed to the grubby man on the floor.

"_Help_," he whispered as darkness and the ground started to close in on his vision. "_Someone_ … _help_ …"

And then everything went blank with pain.

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***Ouch, two months ... That's a long time, isn't it? And I make it up with this short, crummy cliff-hanger? What a bad author I am. :( Bah, anyway, at least this is longer than the norm, right? *crickets* Okay, okay, well at least I updated ... _Fine_, I'm horrible, I admit it! I've been lazy and homework is not especially entertaining. Excuses, excuses, I know. Anyway, I really do hope you enjoyed this chapter. ****Now normally I wouldn't go this far into detailing something so horrible, but it shows just how badly Roran was treated ... And it's character development; have to have that otherwise where's the depth? Sorry to those who were disturbed; I wanted to test out how far I could go with this. ****I can't help but feel it's a little fast-paced though. :/ Tell me what you think, should this be M-rated now? Hmm ... :/  
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**Keep on reading.*  
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